


When the battle is over

by yulin



Series: Sekhmet [4]
Category: Football RPF
Genre: Future Gladiators AU, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-01
Updated: 2017-02-01
Packaged: 2018-09-21 10:58:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,442
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9545417
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yulin/pseuds/yulin
Summary: In a future, gladiators fights will again be called for. Warriors will be send from their planet of origin to Sekhmet, the planet of fights. Gladiators will be honoured almost as gods, but, in reality, they will not be free: they will not be able to leave the planet and they will not be able to refuse a fight. One of them, is more a God and more of a prisoner than the others. Another looks to change that.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MessiFangirl (hpdm4ever)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hpdm4ever/gifts).



It wasn't the first time that Cristiano had stood in the main arena of Sekhmet, the planet of fights, where all the best warriors of the planet-colonies of the galaxy were more or less willingly sent to fight for the pleasure of a full audience.  
   
In the main arena, there were continuous fights endlessly broadcast everywhere. There was complete coverage and systems of lights to assure that. Nevertheless, having a seat was as difficult as winning a lottery, in particular when Leo or Cris were fighting, but of course Cris always had a place whenever he wanted to see a fight. It was another advantage that came with being the hero, the best fighter.  
   
Or at least one of the best, since he was always part of the eternal debate about who was the very best, him or Leo. Leo - who was now dancing with his energy-whips: his weapon of choice. Because of course he could have never gone for a typical weapon, as a pike, or a sword, Cris’ weapon of choice.  
   
Leo didn’t even have the physique for fighting in reality. He shouldn’t be so good, but nobody told him that, and so he was. And he was even able to manage a very difficult weapon, as the length of the energy-whips were mentally controlled. A more powerful weapon, such as the energy sword of Cris, could very easily cut the cords if it came in contact with the whips, so Leo needed to maintain his body movement endlessly to get the adversaries without them catching the whips. And without being, himself, caught in the movement of the cords.  
   
Moreover, sometimes fights were organised in teams according to the planet of origin: in Leo’s case Argentina, a little dark planet only known for its ranges and the quality of its warriors. When Leo was fighting with his team he had also to take into consideration the clumsiness of his teammates, because he didn’t want to entangle  _them_.  
   
That day Leo was engaged in a single fight, though. The opponent was a pyronexus.  
   
They were big and tough creatures with stocky grey skin. Their features looked rough to the human eye, as if they were a rock on which a sculptor had only started to work. They were very difficult to fight with whips: their skin was so tough that they didn’t even feel a lash, and their body was sturdy, with very few points to grab and use as leverage.  
   
Leo had already attempted a few hits, aiming with precision at its small eyes, but without any success. He was still moving around it, studying it without being grabbed. He knew perfectly well that one hit from the pyronexus’ club was enough to lose consciousness or even die.  
   
It was difficult for Cris to connect that Leo on the stage with the Leo that he had known. His eyes were deadly resolute, instead of sweet and hesitant  
   
His eyes had not been icily piercing back then, but warm and glazed with pleasure.  
   
His touches had been soft and hesitant, exploring Cris body.  
   
His body had reacted in ways that even Leo didn’t expect, and he’d experienced feelings that were a taboo for him.  
   
_You can not touch a God._  
   
A God cannot be touched  
   
A God can only touch  
   
For Leo was a God for his people, as his coloured tattoo signalled. For Argentines, every victory in the arena earned a new tattoo on the body of the fighter. That meant that Leo’s body was covered with intricate drawings, sometimes overlapping each other. In some points there was so much ink under his skin that the drawings could not be guessed at all, and only a black surface was visible.  
   
But Leo had also some special tattoos that were not earned in the arena. Back in his adolescence, when it was clear that he was a warrior like nobody had ever seen, the Argentines decided that he was the reincarnation of Maradona, their God of War. And they signalled his status by drawing special colourful tattoos on his right arm.  
   
Cris remembered them very well, along with the others, from darting over the skin lucid with sweat, as Leo had moved beneath him.  
   
What Leo and Cris had done was strictly forbidden in Leo’s culture. If one of his people had known, they would have kicked him out of the team, and banned him from his society. They would probably also burn Leo’s skin where the coloured tattoos were.   
   
But that would not be the worst for Leo.   
   
The worst thing, for him, would have been seeing the deluded faces of his people. It would be the feeling that he had let them down.  
   
So Cris was aware that he was the only one that had seen real Leo. Sweet, shy Leo was so different from the mask of that impenetrable God that he was always wearing for his people.  
   
There was a “ooh!” rising from the crowd and Cris was startled. Leo had fallen. He was laying supine on the ground, both of his whips dead without energy, as they had lost contact with Leo.  
One of them was near his left foot, the other was even more useless, as it was laying some few meters away on Leo’s right.  
   
The pyronexus was already hovering over Leo, both of his hands closed in one fist, ready to smash Leo’s head.  
   
Cris felt sick. He needed to stop the time, he needed to jump in the arena and save Leo. It couldn’t end like this. That couldn’t be the end of Leo. 

Of them.  
   
It was quick then, as only Leo could be. He kicked the whip, that flew behind the pyronexus, drawing a big curve in the air. Leo swerved on his right with a somersault and when he raised the handle of his whip, it landed in his hand. In some way, the lace had been tangled around the small ligament between the big pyronexus’ body and its foot. Leo did another flip reaching for the other whip, and the movement pulled the lace, causing the pyronexus to fall.  
   
Leo took immediate advantage, snapping the free whip in the little interspace between the head and the body of the pyronexus, with deadly precision. That was one of the few, if not the only, weak areas of the pyronexus. All that Leo had to do, at that point was pull with all his strength, and the body of the pyronexus spasmed before staying forever still.   
The battle was over.   
   
The crowd went crazy, all cheering Leo as the hero of the day. He was as motionless as a statue, in the middle of the arena, as he was surrounded by his teammates. Javier was already checking that he was alright, while Kun was simply looking at him with adoring eyes.  
   
But Cris couldn’t be part of the general enthusiasm. His heart was still pumping too loudly in his chest, and he could still taste bile in his throat.  
   
The thing was that Cris had never been worried when he was the one fighting. With the adrenaline pumping in his veins, he felt invincible. His people didn’t have such a stupid thing as a God of War to worship, but yes, when he was in the arena, fully confident in every movement of his body, in all his perceiving skills and his ability to foresee the moves of his opponents, yes, Cris could say that he felt like a God.  
   
But watching Leo was a completely different story. For some reason that Cris couldn’t name, he felt proud of Leo’s skills. And yes, he was fascinated by his movements and his geniality. But another feeling was overwhelming. A feeling that Cristiano didn’t even know that he could sense.  
   
While around him people were standing, screaming their cheers, Cris was still on his seat, paralysed by the most pure, crystalline fear.  
   
Leo gave Kun a little condescending smile and then he turned in the direction where he knew that his home planet was. As it was his habit, he bowed his head and made a gesture with his hands, paying homage to it.  
   
Cris pressed his nails into his palms. But he was boiling so much that he could not even feel the pain. Because _that_ was very much the planet that was making Leo’s life so miserable. Cris couldn't bear anymore to see Leo so devoted to it, when he gave everything and they gave him only suffering. He couldn’t bear to watch Leo risking his life just for the glory of Argentina. 

All of that needed to be stopped.  

**Author's Note:**

> The idea for the "one tatto one win" is actually taken from [Service Code](http://www.servicecode.it/) by Matteo and Emanuela Locatelli. Go and have a look, if you can: it's a great story!
> 
>  
> 
> Thank you very much to [messifangirl](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hpdm4ever/pseuds/hpdm4ever) for beta-reading it and improving it *_*! And for picking up the tile. And for being the fabulous human being that you are :)


End file.
